


Numb

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Blair has reached the end of his rope.





	Numb

I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
I've become so tired so much more aware  
\--- Linkin Park ---

\----------------------------------------------

“What the hell happened? And where's Sandburg?” Captain Simon Banks bellowed to no one in particular, standing in the middle of the ER waiting room while one half of his best detective team, James Ellison, was rushed into surgery. 

“Captain, I must insist that you lower your voice,” the duty nurse said adamantly. “This is a hospital, not your squad room.” 

“Sorry, ma'am.” Banks nodded and turned, looking for any of his men to explain what had happened. He finally spied Sandburg walking down the hall toward him. Simon looked closely at Blair's disheveled appearance. His hair was sticking out at all angles, and his shirt and jacket had blood smeared down the front. There was dried blood on his cheeks where he had, apparently, rubbed his hands on his face. Banks strode up to him and asked, “What the hell happened?” 

“Captain,” Blair said quietly, “Jim's been shot.” 

“I know that, Detective. Didn't he have on a vest? Is it a head wound? Is he going to be okay?”

Shrugging, Blair said, “Don't know.” 

“Sandburg, what the hell is wrong with you?” Banks grabbed Blair's sleeve and hauled him across the room, pushing him into one of the hard, blue plastic chairs. “You're acting damned strange. I expected you to be all -- upset, or at least concerned about your partner. You're acting like he's getting a splinter removed.”

Blair sighed and studied the zipper pull on his jacket, fiddling with the silver metal. “It doesn't matter.” 

“What?” Banks bellowed. “What doesn't matter? If Jim lives or dies?”

Blair shrugged again. “I'm tired. I think I'll go home.” 

Simon grabbed Blair's arm. “Look at me, Blair.” When Blair failed to respond, Simon dug his fingers into his arm. “Are you hurt? What's wrong with you?” Running his free hand across his forehead, Simon was becoming more and more upset, sure that Blair was suffering from shock at seeing his partner shot before his very eyes. This wasn't the usual Sandburg response to an Ellison injury. Hell, Simon remembered the time when Jim was shot during a gang war and Blair had to be sedated because he was so upset about his partner. This was definitely not the Blair Sandburg he knew – and tolerated. 

“I'm getting one of the doctors to take a look at you.” 

Blair finally raised his head. His face was emotionless and his tone flat. “I'm fine.” Crossing his arms, he dropped his head yet again, effectively dismissing the captain and any further conversation. 

“Why don't we go to the men's room and wash your face and hands? You'll feel better if you get that blood off.” 

Blair held up his hands and looked at them like they belonged to someone else. “I didn't even notice,” he said quietly. “I'll take a shower later.” 

“For God's sake, Sandburg, snap out of it!” Simon growled before he shook his head and huffed out a shaky breath. He was just about to insist that Blair go and clean up when Jim's doctor, Jeff Roberts, strode into the waiting room. 

Simon rose. “Dr. Roberts.” He held out his hand. 

Jeff shook Simon's hand. “Captain.” He glanced down. “Blair? Jim's doing very well.” 

Blair nodded, flipping the zipper pull on his jacket with a finger. “Okay.” 

“Blair?” Jeff said, hunkering down in front of the seated man. “Are you okay?” 

Blair shrugged. “Guess so.” 

Jeff carefully examined Blair's face before glancing up at Simon, who shook his head at Jeff's raised eyebrow. Jeff explained, “Jim's in recovery right now. The bullet's been removed. Apparently, when Jim raised his arm to fire his weapon, the bullet had the bad luck to enter right under his arm and above the edge of the vest. It's a chance in a million, I'd say.” Jeff looked from Simon back to Blair. “The damage was minimal, thank God. Luckily, it missed his heart. After he's regained consciousness, we'll move him to a private room. Then you may see him.” 

Blair nodded. “So he's going to be okay?”

“Yes.” 

“When will he be awake?” 

“By tomorrow afternoon, he'll be awake enough to talk. He'll need a few days here; then he can go home and recover.” Jeff smiled. “I know how grumpy Jim is when he's in the hospital.” 

“So I can go home and take a shower?” 

“Sure, Blair. If that's what you want.” Jeff rose; his eyes met Simon's. 

Simon shook his head again. “He's been acting like this since I got here.” 

“He's had a shock, Captain. Do you think you can stay with him tonight? I think he needs some company. I'd rather he wasn't alone.” 

“No, I'm fine,” Blair said adamantly, rising. “I just want to go home.” 

“Sandburg, the doctor says you need tending. I'm your superior officer. I'll take you home and catch some z's on your sofa.” 

“I don't need a babysitter,” Blair said bitingly. “Now leave me alone!” He stalked off through the automatic door and across the parking lot. Suddenly, he stopped, remembering he didn't have a vehicle since he had ridden to the hospital in the back of the ambulance with.... Blair sighed and bit his lip. He pulled his cell phone, intending to call for a cab, when a strong voice said, “Don't move, Sandburg.” 

Blair didn't bother to look up, but said, “Leave me alone, Captain.” 

“No.” Simon tamped down his first reaction to Blair's unkind tone -- yelling at him – and really looked into his face, seeing the total blankness there. 

“Fuck you,” Blair retorted. 

“Not likely.” 

Blair finally raised his eyes at Simon's smart comeback, surprised that Simon hadn't ripped him a new one at his rude remark. “I'll find a cab.” 

“I'm driving you home whether you like it or not.” 

Blair sighed, suddenly too tired to argue. He shrugged. 

Simon took his shrug as acquiescence and put a hand on Blair's shoulder. “You're still in shock, Blair. You need a friendly face. Come on.” 

Blair heard the kind voice. He heard the comforting words. He felt his eyes prickle and he was instantly angry, though at what, he didn't have a clue. “Fine,” he said between clenched teeth. 

Simon sighed and, taking Blair's elbow, led him to his car. He hit the remote and unlocked the doors. “Hop in. I'll turn on the heat.” 

Blair climbed in and slammed the door. Slumping in his seat and burying his hands in his pockets, he turned his face away from his friend. 

“Sandburg, I've gotten all the sullen teenager treatment from Daryl that I can take, but if it makes you feel better, go right ahead. I'm helping you because you're my friend. Besides, Ellison will chew me a new one if I don't take care of you.” At Blair's silence, Simon rolled his eyes. “Okay, hint taken. I'll shut up.” 

True to his word, Simon remained silent on the drive to Prospect Street. He followed Blair into the building and they waited in uncomfortable silence for the elevator. The ride up was silent also. Blair unlocked the door and walked through the loft straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Simon sighed yet again and started coffee. It was going to be a long night. 

Simon pulled off his coat, tugged off his shoes and rolled up his sleeves. He washed his face and hands before setting out cups for coffee. While he waited for a turn in the bathroom, he pulled his cell and called the hospital for an update on Ellison. Told that the detective was being moved to his own room within the hour, Simon thanked the helpful nurse before bidding her a good night. 

Blair finally emerged from the bathroom amid a cloud of steam. He rubbed a towel on his hair and headed for the sofa where he tossed a dry towel that he carried over one of the sofa's pillows and lay down. 

“Coffee, Sandburg?”

“No.” 

Simon watched while Blair covered the pillow with the towel. “Sandburg, aren't you sleeping...?” Simon pointed upward and waited a few moments. When Blair didn't respond to his question, he walked over to the sofa and looked down at him. Blair had tossed the towel that he was using to dry his hair, as well as the one he had wrapped around his hips, into a small pile on the coffee table. He had pulled the Indian blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa over his body and he appeared to be getting ready to sleep. 

Simon stood looking down for a long minute before Blair finally turned his face and said grumpily, “What now?”

“I thought you slept upstairs, Blair,” Simon said quietly. 

“Not tonight. You can have that bed. Go and get some sleep since you insist on staying.” Blair punched the pillow once and settled in. “Get the lights, will you?” He closed his eyes. 

Simon stood, mouth open, for a long while before he finally moved. He made sure the front door was locked, turned off the lights and after visiting the bathroom, quietly climbed the stairs to the loft bedroom. Uncomfortable about invading the Ellison/Sandburg private territory, he lay down on the top of the bedspread and tried to figure out what the hell was going on with Sandburg. Finally, he drifted off to sleep. 

\-------------------------------------------

“Welcome home, man,” Blair said quietly, pushing open the door to allow Jim to walk through. 

Jim's steps were careful as he walked over to the sofa and sank down. “Thanks, Chief. It's good to be home. I hate hospitals.” 

“Yeah, I know. Hungry?”

“A bit.” 

“I could start dinner a little early or we could send for take-out.” 

“Whatever you'd like, Chief. I'm ready for anything after hospital food for four days.” 

“I'll cook. That way I can make something decent, and watch the fat and salt.” 

Jim smiled. “I've missed you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Jim waited, but Blair fell silent, searching the cupboards for makings for dinner. He expected Blair to say something along the lines that he missed Jim, too, but no such words came forth. Jim's smile faded and he turned sideways to watch Blair puttering in the kitchen. 

Blair seemed -- unhappy. It wasn't anything in particular, but his entire demeanor wasn't the “usual” Sandburg. Now that Jim thought about it, the past few days when Blair had come to visit him in the hospital, he had been withdrawn and quiet -- for Blair, that is. Oh, he asked about how Jim was feeling and they played gin rummy, but Blair didn't chatter. He didn't tell any stories or jokes; he hadn't bounced once. 

Maybe it was something Jim had done. He thought about the weeks before the shooting and nothing seemed out of place. Blair had been happy, enthusiastic, and talkative. Right before the shooting, which had taken place during a hostage situation at a bank, Blair and he talked about their week's vacation that they had planned for next month. Blair was excited about the week-long camping trip to Idaho for some serious trout fishing. He had endlessly talked about it, but now that Jim thought about it, he realized that Blair hadn't said a word regarding the trip while he visited Jim at the hospital. He hadn't brought it up a single time, something Jim found unusual. 

“Say, you haven't said much about the trip we planned. I'm still looking forward to it, now more than ever. Maybe we can get Simon to move up our vacation time and we can go in two weeks. I'll be okay to go by then.” 

Blair froze, hand in the cupboard on a can of tomato sauce. “I've been meaning to tell you. I don't think I'll be able to go after all.” 

“Why not? We planned this for months. I thought you wanted to go.” 

Blair fished out two cans of sauce and a small can of crushed tomatoes. “I'm busy.”

“Look at me, Blair. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Blair said, pretending to be busy in the stove, looking for the large pot that they used to simmer spaghetti sauce in. “Why don't you go up and have a nap? I'll call you when dinner's ready.” 

“We need to talk about this.” 

Blair rose and carefully set the pan on the stove. “No, we don't. Or at least I don't. I've already said I'm not interested. End of story.” 

“That's not fair. Why are you shutting me out?”

Blair gave a derisive snort. “That's a good one,” he muttered. “Listen, Jim. I've been doing some thinking. I didn't want to get into this right now, while you're recovering. When you're up and around, maybe then I'll be able to say what I need to say; but right now, it's not a good idea. Just go and nap, okay?”

Jim rose gingerly. “No, it's not okay!” 

“Don't get upset. I knew you'd get upset. You'll hurt your stitches.” 

“Fuck my stitches, Chief. I need to know what's going on! You barely came to the hospital. In four days, you visited me three times. I missed you. I wanted you there.” Jim ran a hand across his forehead. “Are you -- dumping me? Are we breaking up here, Sandburg?” 

“Jim, please. I can't do this!” 

“What? Can't do what? Can't be my partner? Can't be my lover? Can't do what?”

“I'm going out,” Blair said huffily, yanking his jacket from the coat hook. 

“No, we're talking about this!” Jim blocked Blair's escape route. “Please, we need to talk. Just talk to me. You know how I feel.” 

Blair shrugged. “It doesn't matter.”

“What? That I love you!” Jim shouted, wincing slightly afterward. 

“I'm begging you. Just leave it alone! Now let me by!” Blair put a hand on Jim's chest and his voice dropped. “Please,” he begged, dropping his head. 

Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder and a finger under his chin. Raising his head, Jim looked into the blue eyes made large and luminous by the tears that pooled but didn't fall. “Blair?” he said softly. 

“Damn you, Ellison,” Blair growled. “Don't do this.” 

“I don't know what I've done. Please, Chief. I love you so much! You have to know that.” 

“Maybe it's not enough.” 

“Why? Why isn't it enough?” Jim asked softly, his voice tinged with sadness. 

Blair sighed, shaking his head. 

Jim asked quietly, “Please, can we sit and talk?” 

Blair heard the unhappy tone in Jim's voice and his heart broke. “I'll try. I don't know if I can.” 

Taking Blair's hand, Jim led him to the sofa, where they both sat. Blair slipped his leg under his butt and sat facing Jim, who also sat facing his lover. 

“Just tell me what's wrong, Blair. You know I'd do anything for you.” 

Blair ran his hands through his hair before covering his face. “I can't do this anymore,” he whispered. 

“Do this?”

“Yeah.” 

“What is 'this' exactly?”

“I can't -- watch you die.” 

“What?” Jim asked, shocked. “What are you talking about?” 

“I can't do it. I can't watch you die.” 

“God, Chief. You act like I wanted to be shot! You know I was careful.” 

“No, you weren't. You were reckless and stupid. You went in before the negotiators were ready. You didn't even wait for me to back you up. One second, you were beside me; and the next, you were gone.” Blair crossed his arms and hugged himself tightly. 

“Now wait a second. I was listening carefully to what was going down. I saw a chance and I took it. That's what I do, take chances. We were successful. The hostages were rescued unharmed. I did the right thing,” Jim added testily. 

“The right thing would have been to wait until we all knew what was going on inside and for us to make a move together. What you did wasn't the right thing!” 

Jim crossed his arms and sat silently. 

Blair sighed and said, “Do you even care what it's like to come home with your blood dried on my skin? In my hair? Under my nails? Do you even think about me?” Blair visibly shrank away from Jim and added very softly, “You don't care if I love you or need you, you take unnecessary risks. I know the risks in police work, but you're over the edge. You use your senses like a weapon instead of an aid.” Blair was adamant when he added, “I can't -- won't watch you die uselessly, and that's final.” 

“Which means...?” 

“I don't know. I need to leave. I should leave, but I don't know if I can.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“That's what you always say afterwards.” 

“You act like this happens all the time!” 

“It does,” Blair said emphatically, “and I'm tired of it.” 

Jim bristled. “How many times have I been to the ER in the past three years since you became a detective?”

Blair's eyes met Jim's and he asked firmly, “How many times to you think you've been to the ER since I became your partner?” 

Jim shrugged. “Four or five.” 

“Wrong. Twelve.”

“No way!” 

Blair shrugged. “Call Jeff. Call Simon. Call Cascade Memorial or Rampart General.” 

“Twelve?”

“And six required overnight stays, five required three or more days of hospitalization, and a couple of times you needed surgery.” 

“Twelve?” Jim echoed, surprised. 

“Yeah. And I'm not anxious for number thirteen,” Blair muttered. 

“Wait. What about you? How many times have you been to the ER since then?”

“Four.” 

“Really? Four?”

“Again, I say call Jeff. Call the ER. Look at my file at the station. Look at yours. And I only had to stay over once.” 

“Twelve,” Jim said, rolling the number around his brain. “Maybe you went to the ER a lot less because I protected you,” Jim said coldly. “Maybe a couple of those times I was hurt were meant for you.” 

“Could be. I'd concede once or twice, but if that's what's happening, then all the more reason for me to go. Apparently, all I'm good for is getting you hurt. I don't know. All I know is that I can't do this anymore. I couldn't survive watching you die.” 

Jim turned and looked out the balcony windows. “But you could survive leaving me?” 

“It will hurt so much, but at least, that way, I'd just get a phone call one of these days. Simon would call and tell me, “Jim's dead.” That way, I'd still be devastated, but I wouldn't have to watch it. I wouldn't have to hold you in my arms and watch, damn you!” Seeing the hard look on Jim's face, Blair rose and growled, “I knew you wouldn't understand.” 

Jim's eyes met Blair's. He saw the torment on his lover's face. He rose and stepped closer to Blair. Leaning down, he whispered, “Watching is more painful than anything, isn't it? Even more painful than being hurt.” 

“Yes,” Blair whispered in response. “I'm sorry.” 

“I am, too.” 

“So this is it?” Blair braced himself, expecting the worse. 

“Not by a long shot.”

“What?” Blair said incredulously. “What?” he repeated. 

Jim grabbed Blair's hand. “I'm not stupid, you know. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. If you feel I'm being reckless and putting myself in danger, then I don't dispute your feelings. I know you love me, and I love you enough to do something about this whole mess.” 

“What?” Blair echoed. 

“Close your mouth, Chief. In case you've forgotten, two years, nine months and twelve days ago, you and I embarked on something. You do remember. You, me, no clothes? It was more than sex, much more. We made promises and I intend to keep them.” Jim smiled. “I need you. You're the only person who knows me and understands me. You're the only person who would have the balls to tell me I fucked up.” 

“Jim...” Blair's eyes met Jim's, and his eyes regained a little bit of the sparkle that had been missing for many days now. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” 

“What does that mean, exactly?” Blair asked, moving closer to Jim and putting a hand on his chest, avoiding the bandaged area. 

“It means that I'm talking to Simon about my assignments and about how I've been acting. It means that I'm going to stay around for a long time. It means that being with you counts for more than anything in this world. It means that if you want me to quit the force, I will.” 

“I'd never ask you to do that.” Blair said, slowly shaking his head 

“I know. But I'm offering.” 

Surprised, Blair asked, “You'd do that for me?” 

“Didn't I just say that?” Jim responded, smiling. He slipped his fingers through Blair's and clasped their hands together. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you and I'll fix this.” 

“Jim, I don't know what to say.” 

“For once, I do. You gave up everything for me. You left Rainier. You went to the Academy in spite of all the people who thought you'd never make it. You're the best partner I could hope for, and I'm madly in love with you.” Jim kissed Blair's knuckles. “Besides, I want you to be happy.” 

“I want you to be happy, also. I don't know if not being a cop would make you happy.” 

“And you think being a cop but being without you works for me? Think again, Einstein.” Jim said smartly. 

Blair slipped his free hand around Jim's waist. “We can work this out.” 

“Definitely.” 

“I love you, more than anything.” 

“I know.” 

“You need to rest.” 

Jim smiled. “I'm a bit tired. How about I lie right here on the sofa and hang out while you fix us that dinner?” 

Blair smiled in return. “I'd like that. Having you close sounds good. I've missed you so much, and I'm sorry about the hospital. About not visiting.” 

“Hey, I understand now. Thanks for telling me and not just running.” 

“Thanks for understanding and not yelling.” 

Jim laughed before he leaned down and lightly kissed Blair's lips. “I have missed you, Chief.” 

“Lie down, babe, and rest. I'll make spaghetti, garlic bread, and tossed salad.” 

“Sounds good.” Jim smiled and did as bid. 

Blair pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and covered his mate. Kissing Jim's forehead, Blair whispered, “Fuck up again, and I'll kill you myself.” 

Jim chuckled, and with the sounds of his lover humming while he puttered around in the kitchen, he drifted off into the first restful sleep he'd had in almost a week. 

The End.


End file.
